To Wish In Vain
by Thalia Castellan
Summary: Eighteen Christmases in Annabeth's life. Seventeen bad, one good, and all a reflection of the choices she's made.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize from the books. Anna, Rick, Mark, Amy etc. Are however, mine.**

**Grammar: I did a couple rereads, but I'm sure it's far from perfect. I wanted to get it up tonight (Christmas Eve where I live) and I finished it this afternoon, so I didn't have time to get it Beta-read. So I'm sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any grammar tips for things I messed up on, I'd love to hear them.**

**Holiday: And since this is a Christmas fic, merry Christmas all! Or merry whatever holiday you're celebrating.**

**Music: I listened to _Calling All Angels _and _Drops of Jupiter _(both by Train) while I was writing this. However, anything something depressing or sad would fit the mood.**

* * *

_To Wish In Vain._

* * *

Annabeth smiled and put the phone back on the wall. He stepmom had just called, wishing her a very merry Christmas. They'd gotten closer over the years, not I'm-gonna-cry-on-your-shoulder close, but close enough that she and her family spent Easter and Thanksgiving with her.

Her family. Annabeth loved to think about _her family_. It made her happy, that she had people who depended on her, loved her, and were always around when she needed them.

Mark was sixteen, and would be home from his girlfriend's house anytime now; Amy was thirteen, at the mall, probably cramming last minute shopping she'd been putting off for weeks.

The twins, Sara and Davis--eleven and three quarters--were skating with their father, down in the woods. Living deep in the country suited Annabeth. She loved the city, but the country brought back so many memories.

Speaking of memories...

Beside her, two children were arguing over a pen. Usually, they got along very well. Better then the others in fact. But today, they were antsy.

"Mom! Luke wouldn't let me have Riptide!"

"It's called, Anaklusmos!"

"Shut up, Luke!"

Annabeth sighed and swooped down, taking the pen from her eight year old son. "Luke, we don't poke our sister's so they'll drop things. And Thalia, don't tell your brother to shut up. It's not nice."

Thalia promptly stuck her tongue out at her mother and scampered off in the direction of her bedroom before she could be punished. Luke grinned and raced off after his twin. Annabeth sighed; he'd managed to take the pen out of her pocket while she had been scolding Thalia.

Sometimes, Annabeth swore her second set of twins were reincarnations of the original Luke and Thalia.

They even resembled her old friends; Thalia had Percy's black hair, and Luke had her own blond tresses. They were also Annabeth's only children too have her gray eyes, all the other's had Percy's.

There was suddenly a crash from the twin's bedroom. Annabeth jumped; startled.

"You idiot! That could've killed you!"

"Thalia! Don't call your brother an idiot!" Annabeth yelled. Not that it would do any good, Thalia would call Luke an idiot despite her mother--and brother--telling her not to.

Glancing out the window, Annabeth saw it had finally started to snow. All through December, they'd waited with batted breath for the little white flacks to rain down. They'd been sorely disappointed. But now, it was starting to look like they might have a white Christmas after all.

* * *

"Thanks daddy."

"You're welcome. Now, go play. I have to write this paper."

The four year old obediently walked out of the room. Holding a badly wrapped present close to her chest. It was the only gift she'd gotten since her birthday and that had been months ago.

Sitting on the floor in the baby blue bedroom she called her own, the blond child opened the gift.

A large stuffed owl stared up at her from the small pile of torn wrapping paper. For a few minutes, the child is enthralled. It's perfect.

But then, through the thin wall that separates her room from her father's study, Annabeth hears voices. Male voices. And they're shouting.

"You can't take care of her, you're barely taking care of yourself as it is!"

"Time Arnold, I need time."

"You've been saying that for years! The girl needs a better home, you have to send her away!"

She stops listening after that.

Instead, she curls up in her bed, hugging her stuffed owl as tightly as she can. And she cries. She cries all night, and wishes someone would come and take her to a place where no one yells at her father, and there is no talk of sending her away.

All she wants for Christmas is to be safe.

* * *

The abandoned house is drafty and cold. Seven year old Annabeth shivers is the dark.

Luke had given her one of his coats, and his hat, scarf, and gloves, but she is still cold. When she'd asked Thalia for a blanket, the older girl had snapped at her and told her too, 'suck it up and go to sleep'.

After that, Annabeth had curled into a ball and shivered. She tried not to cry, but she did anyway. The tiny teardrops froze on her cheeks, nose, and lips, making her cry harder.

By the time Luke got back from the gas station where he'd been stealing food, Annabeth's eyelashes were frozen together and she was trapped in the dark. She'd called out, hoping Thalia would answer her, but she'd gotten no answer.

He picked her up and cradled her in his arms; gently blowing on her eyes so they'll unfreeze. When she was finally free of the darkness, he asked her what's wrong. She tells him Thalia was mean. She then asks why Thalia's been so grouchy all week. He blushes and tells her she'll understand when she's older.

Luke then gives her a chocolate bar, reminding her that it's Christmas, and she should be happy. Annabeth gladly takes and devours the chocolate, glad to have found something to make her at least a little merrier.

When she woke up, some hours latter; Annabeth starts to call out for Luke, because she's had a bad dream, but then hears the whisper of low voices. So instead of calling out, she stays perfectly still, hoping to hear something important.

"We'll never get anywhere! We barely covered a mile today, and the roads were clear!"

"It was snowing, Thal. And it's cold."

"You and I could've covered at _least _five miles, maybe more!"

"We're not leaving her behind. Get some rest; you're just tired."

"Why? So you can fall asleep?"

"No, so you don't snap at Annabeth tomorrow."

"It was her fault! If she hadn't....."

Annabeth stopped listening. She knew Thalia was right. They'd stopping walking because _she_ was cold. Not because Luke or Thalia was cold, but because she was tired, cold, and hungry. She was slowing them down. Allot.

She curled up again, hugging her knees to her chest and wishing she was three years older and allot stronger and faster.

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Annie," Luke said, smiling.

Annabeth smiled back: it had been so very long since she'd seen him smile. Three and a half months to be precise.

"Merry Christmas."

They sat there, by the edge of the lake, for a few long minutes. Inside the camp boarder, it still hadn't snowed. Not yet. Chiron had promised a little flurry after dinner, but that was still an hour off.

"Do you think Thalia would have liked it here?" Annabeth asks, finally breaking the silence.

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Too many rules."

Another silence followed. Longer and thicker this time.

Annabeth knows Luke is thinking about their dead friend. She was still struggling, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that the 'older sister' she'd had only a few months ago was dead. Gone forever.

Every time she starts thinking about Thalia, Annabeth starts to cry. It's her fault the older girl died. If only she had been faster, not held up the daughter of Zeus and son of Hermes so much. Then Thalia might still be alive and well.

"What's wrong?" Luke asks, concerned. Annabeth had started to cry, and had buried her head in the boy's chest.

"It's my fault she's dead!" Annabeth wailed. "If I'd been faster, or older, or fought better--"

The son of Hermes grabs her roughly by the shoulders and forces her face up. Her eyes meet his, and to her surprise, his are full of anger.

"Never say that Annabeth, never." He says, his voice sharp and angry. "It's not your fault, it never was. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise." And with that, he is gone. Racing off into the woods, leaving her alone. Again.

Annabeth shivers in the cold December air and silently watches him go. No matter what he says, she doesn't believe him. It _was _her fault. Thalia was right; she was to slow.

She wishes that Christmas that she'd never runaway. Then Thalia would still be alive.

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it!"

Annabeth backed away quickly. Both hurt and bewildered. Luke _never_ snapped at her. Only once can she remember him raising his voice when talking to her. And coincidentally, that day was exactly three years ago, December twenty-fifth: Christmas day.

"You haven't talked to me in over a month!" She cried. She's scared, tired, and so very hurt.

"Go _away_!" Luke shouted at her, throwing his pillow as hard as he could in her direction. It hit her squarely in the face.

Annabeth gave a yelp of surprise and stumbled backwards, knocking her hip against the edge of the windowsill. She cried out again--this time in pain--and sank to the ground, trying to hide her tears.

"It's not fair!" She yelled, "You would've told _her_!"

In an instant, Luke was out of bed and standing over her trembling form. His face was twisted in rage, and his newly acquired scar was an angry red. Annabeth cowered in fear. He looked so angry. She'd never seen him anywhere near this angry.

"Not even _think_ of bringing _her _into this! The gods let her die, it's _their_ fault she isn't here!"

Annabeth stared at him in astonishment, he'd never placed blame before either. Always, Thalia's death was an accident. An accident combined with Thalia's determination to fight the monsters off; not run and leave her comrades behind.

"You wouldn't be sulking if Thalia was here!" Annabeth just barely managed to speak the daughter of Zeus' name. She knew Luke hated when anyone spoke of her, especially by name. "You'd tell her everything! You always did."

"_Thalia_,"--She's surprised he said her name--"would've understood! Not told me to stop sulking!"

Annabeth glared at him, hating that Luke thought she Thalia would understand him better. "Why? 'Cause she's prettier then me? Or smarter? Why can't I understand?!" Luke blinks, and looked down at her, and Annabeth saw confusion spread over his face.

"No," He said, sighing and moving his gaze to the window. "You're just not _her_."

Not for the first time in her life, Annabeth feels a wave of jealousy towards Thalia. It is her Christmas wish--she knows it's selfish, but doesn't care--that the daughter of Zeus had never been born. Maybe then, she, Annabeth Chase, could be the _her _Luke could confide in.

* * *

Annabeth sighed and looked around her room. It was powder blue; the color almost the same as the paint in her bedroom she'd had as a kid. The furniture was white. There wasn't much of it, but the room wasn't all that big. Ten by twelve maybe.

Picking at the patchwork quilt on her bed, Annabeth mulled over the summer's events.

First, Percy had shown up. She still couldn't believe they were friends. A daughter of Athena and a son of Poseidon. It was unheard of. Scandals even.

Second, and really, the most important: Luke was a traitor.

Annabeth still couldn't believe it. The boy she'd grown up with, the one who'd stolen her coats, hats, chocolate bars. He was gone. Replaced by a grown-up man. One who'd tried to kill her new best friend.

Like she had blamed herself for Thalia's death, Annabeth blamed herself for Luke's desertion. These things didn't just happen overnight. There must have been signs during all those year between their arrival at camp and Luke's departure.

Annabeth threw herself face-first into her pillow. A muffled scream of rage and emotional pain soon followed. It was her fault. All her fault. If Thalia had been there, she would've noticed before it was to late.

Hell, if Thalia had been there, Luke might not have turned evil at all. He'd have no anger towards the gods concerning Thalia's death. And besides, he would have taken her with him on his quest, and then he might have succeeded.

Raising her head, Annabeth sees the first star. She's never believed in magic much, but it's Christmas, maybe she should give it a try.

Closing her bloodshot eyes tightly, Annabeth thinks as hard as she can; and forces on one thing. Her Christmas wish.

When she's ready, Annabeth opens her eyes. Holding her breath, she makes her wish.

She wishes she had died instead of Thalia. Then everything would be okay. Luke would still be good, and maybe even happy. And after all, who would miss her?

* * *

"Whatcha doing?" Annabeth sighed and glanced over her shoulder. Thalia had been unusually chipper the last few days. It wasn't like her.

"Designing a suspension bridge. Why?"

Thalia shrugged, "Just curious. Wanna go get coffee or something?"

"You don't drink coffee," Annabeth pointed out.

"Good point. I'm gonna go blast some Ares campers or something. 'K?"

"Yeah, sure. Have fun with that." Annabeth watched as her friend skipped out of the cabin, shutting the door firmly behind her. There was something definitely wrong with the daughter of Zeus. She never skipped.

Thalia had only been 'untreesified' for a few months, but Annabeth was sure she was never going to get use to things as they were. No longer was Thalia the older girl she could look up to, but instead, they were almost the same age. And other things were different to.

Annabeth had always known Thalia and Luke had been close. Only now, she knew they'd been close in a boyfriend/girlfriend way. Not a brother/sister way. And even if Luke was evil, Annabeth still had feelings for him. He was _hers_. Thalia had been 'dead' for six long years. That made Luke hers, not Thalia's.

Bitting her lip, Annabeth tossed down her pencil. Today was one of the infrequent days that she wished she was a daughter of Aphrodite. That way, her biggest issue would be her hair.

With a sigh, Annabeth closed her eyes. Trying to think. The sound of rain pouring down onto cabin six's roof filled the silence; making it harder to concentrate.

Suddenly, over the sound of the rain--which was curtsey of a certain daughter of Zeus-- Annabeth heard something else. Voices and thuds. The sounds of a fight.

She got up and crossed the room. Out the window, Annabeth was surprised to see Clarisse pinned to the ground. Thalia on top of her.

"Take that back!" Thalia yelled, her voice shrill.

"No happening, Princess." Clarisse's body went ridged as a wave of electricity surged through her.

"Take it back." Thalia hissed.

"Fine," Clarisse growled, obesely not pleased. "Castellan isn't mental, and Owl Head isn't an idiot!"

"And?" Thalia prompted.

"And you're not a lovesick puppy! Now let me go!" Clarisse squirmed under Thalia and got another electric shock.

"Don't harp on us every again La Rue, or I'll make sure you die a slow and painful death." Thalia stood, gave Clarisse a kick, and walked away; into cabin one.

Annabeth watched as Clarisse jumped to her feet, moaned, and glared at the marble cabin with the hate she usually saved for Percy.

With a sigh, Annabeth crossed the room and sat down on her bunk. Thalia had just stood up for her--against _Clarisse _of all people!--and she was mopping about in her cabin, wondering who Luke belonged to.

She reminded herself sorely of Luke the Christmas after his quest. When he'd yelled at her for telling him to stop sulking. Had she really sunk so low?

Curling up into the smallest ball a thirteen year old could curl into, Annabeth let a few tears dribble down her cheek. Life, she decided, sucked. Even as a daughter of Athena, she never seemed to know the right answers. And if Annabeth hated anything, she hated not having the right answers.

It was then she wished she knew everything. Every little thing; even if it was unimportant. She knew it was a childish with, but still; it was Christmas.

* * *

She still couldn't believe _Seaweed Brian_ of all people--or demigods for that matter--had saved her. It was just absurd. Like a child of Aphrodite saving a Huntress. It just didn't happen.

And yet, it had.

"Cold?" Annabeth glanced up at Percy--he hated being shorter then her, and so made a point to stand whenever she was sitting; as she was now--shivering a little in the frigid December air.

"Freezing."

Annabeth glared at the son of Poseidon as he watched her turn up her thin jacket's collar and cure herself out in Greek for forgetting her hat.

Annabeth sighed and for the fifth time in ten minutes, wondered what the Hades she was doing in central park watching the sunset. After all, the sun was setting back in Percy's apartment too. Why did he insist on bringing her outside in below zero weather?

Of course, it hadn't been her plan to spend Christmas with the Jacksons, but there weren't any flights to San Francisco until two days _after _Christmas--well, technically, there were; but they were all booked--and when Sally had heard she was planning to spend Christmas alone at camp.... Well, to put it lightly, she had Percy forcibly drag the daughter of Athena to Manhattan.

"Why are we here again?" Annabeth asked with a sigh. If she'd know it would take so long for the sun to set, she'd've brought a heater.

"Because, it's your Christmas present."

"From you?"

"Yeah."

Annabeth burst into hysteric laughter. "You're sleeping on the couch so I can sleep in your room, you've offered to spend a day at the library you hate with me, and you ordered pizza with green peppers because I asked you too,"--Percy made a face at the last one; he _really _hated green peppers--"But you're too cheap to buy me a present and instead stand out here for an hour and get frostbite?!"

Percy glared at her. "If you must know, I'm not to cheap, I just ran out of money. Mom's classes cost more then she thought they would and I offered to give her the money I'd been saving for Christmas presents. You'd be surprised how far two hundred dollars can stretch."

Immediately, Annabeth stopped laughing. She hated these moments; when she did exactly what she always said Percy did to often: spoke before she thought. Now she'd managed to insult her best friend and benefactor--that couch was _really _lumpy--all at once. Way to go, Chase.

Later that night, after dinner and a Christmas movie, Annabeth curled up in Percy's bed--Sally had washed the sheets, but they still smelled like Percy; Annabeth wondered how often he showered--and cried.

No matter what she did, it always seemed like the wrong thing.

She'd jumped Dr. Thorn and lost Thalia to the Hunters; she'd lost Luke to Kronos through a long list of mistakes, and now, she had insulted Percy. What was _wrong _with her?

It was her Christmas with this year--crying and wishing seemed to have become a Christmas tradition for her--was that she could time travel. Maybe then she could make everything okay.

* * *

"Wake up, Annabeth! Wake up!" Annabeth jerked awake. Her small bed lurched as Bobby and Matthew jumped up and down on it.

"I wanna open my presents!" Bobby said excitedly.

"But daddy says we have to wait for you," Matthew explained.

"So _get up_!" Both boys screamed at once.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and swung herself out of bed. Eyeing the palm trees outside her window, she decided she was glad she wasn't in Manhattan. It was probably blizzarding there.

"I'm coming," She mumbled sleepily.

Bobby and Matthew practically dragged her out of her room and downstairs before she knew what was happening. They were so excited. Annabeth wished that at seven, her Christmas had been about presents, not camping out in an abandoned house.

The next few hours were a blur. Bobby and Matthew gave her a computer bag, her stepmom gave her a necklace, and her father gave her the owl he'd given her so many years ago. He'd patched it up and given it a new eye. He sheepishly explained that he'd kept all her old toys after she ran away and thought she might want her owl back.

It was in that moment that Annabeth remembered the father she loved. Not the one who sided with her stepmom when they argued about the safety of the family; but the one who played with airplanes and saved her from armies of monsters.

For awhile, Annabeth basked in the warm light of a family who at least tried to care about her. And really, if they tried, what more could she ask for? But then, her stepmom found a picture of Luke, Thalia, and herself on the run.

Annabeth excused herself to put the picture back in her room. Her father found her on the stairs a half hour latter, just staring at the small picture; and crying.

When she'd refused to runaway with Luke the second time, she'd shattered his last chance for a family. His last chance to feel like someone cared about him. It was her fault he'd never have that.

She wished she wasn't so confused. She wished that she knew what to do. Because, really, behind her facade of self-assurance, she'd lost and hurt and so, so confused.

* * *

Luke is dead.

She doesn't know why it's taken so long for the fact to sink in; but it has. Maybe because Christmas seems to have been the holiday she always thought about him and wished she could help him somehow.

But now she can't. Because he's dead. Gone. Just like Thalia was, so many years ago. Except, she came back. He never will.

Sure, now she has Percy--as a boyfriend even, who'd've guessed?--but he can't fill the void she associates with Luke. No one can. She'll always feel empty. Always.

She's at camp currently. Percy invited her to his house, but she declined. She wants to be alone for awhile, process everything that's happened over the year.

Percy saved the world. She still can't believe he managed to do it. It's so..... unSeaweed Brian. Maybe she'll have to think up a new nickname for him. 'Cause truth be told, he'd done something that, in her worst fears, she never thought he'd be able to do. A freak'n son of _Poseidon _saved the world. How contrary.

And of course, Luke's dead.

There was nothing she could have done to save him; she passed that chance up over a year ago, when she turned him away from her door. And now, she wished she hadn't. Maybe then, he'd still be alive.

The only good thing that came of the son of Hermes' death; she now knows he loved her. Or at least, that's what she'd decided to tell herself. He loved her. He was _hers_. Not Thalia's, not _anybody's._ Just hers. All hers. Unfortunately for her, he's dead.

Dead. Dead, dead, dead, _dead!_

She hated that word. It made her cry. Because, really, she hasn't won anything. Percy may have saved the world, but she's lost everything and gained nothing. Nothing but more tears. And really, she's got enough of those already.

So this Christmas, as she cries, she wishes for peace. Peace on earth, and goodwill towards at least her. 'Cause gods know she could use some.

* * *

"I'm lonely, Percy!" Annabeth pouted, throwing another drachma into the mist to keep the Iris message going.

"It's not my fault you picked a college in Boston!" Percy said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, seriously. You have offers from colleges in San Francisco _and _New York, and for some reason, you chose the one in _Boston_! How is that my fault?!"

"I didn't say it was your fault, Seaweed Brian." Annabeth took her turn rolling her eyes. Her boyfriend is so stupid sometimes.

"I told you, I'll be there tomorrow, but my Paul asked me to babysit Anna so he could take my mom out to dinner. They haven't been out alone in over a year. I owe them."

Annabeth rolled her eyes again. "The fearsome savior of Olympus, who has the guts to turn Zeus' offer of immortality, challenge the war god,_ and_ tick off Hera, feels he _owes _his stepfather! Sometimes I wonder......"

"Shut up!" Percy said, scowling.

After a pause: "I really do miss you."

"I know. And I'll be there by the time you wake up tomorrow. We'll go window shopping, or something."

Annabeth sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"You can count on it."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

Annabeth waved her hand through the mist and the image disappeared. With a sigh, she plopped down on her couch and glanced--critically--around her small apartment.

A TV, a couch, a few chairs, a table, a kitchen, a bathroom, a small bedroom, and a washer/dryer tucked behind the couch. Not exactly glamourous. But then again, the moment she was out of college, she'd be moving back to New York. So it really didn't have to be a palace.

With another sigh, Annabeth picked the remote off the table and turned on the television. The weather channel said snow. Great.

With yet another sigh--she really had to stop doing that, it was driving her nuts--she recalled that this wasn't her plan. At eighteen, she was suppose to be halfway through college, not in her first year. She was suppose to have built a suspension bridge, and she, Thalia, and Luke were suppose to be traveling the world.

Things hadn't exactly gone as planned. In fact, none of it had ended up that way. By a long shot.

Annabeth grabbed a faded denim pillow and curled up on the small couch. What was she _doing _with her life? She had no plan, no big picture, _nothing!_ And Percy's fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants lifestyle didn't mesh well with the orderly one she wanted.

Sometimes, she wondered if they were really meant to be together. Or if it was just a cruel trick the Fates were playing on them. It wasn't really that unlikely. In fact, with the life she'd lead so far, Annabeth would be far from surprised if her and Percy's relationship turned out to be a sham.

So--naturally--she cried.

She hated herself for being so weak, but she had no idea what to do. A few months ago, MIT seemed like the right college to pick, dating Percy was a dream, and having all her plans fly out the window was okay. After all, everything was only temporary.

But now, she wasn't so sure. It felt like everything was falling apart around her, and she had no idea what to do; at all.

So she lay there, crying, and wishing for a map of her life.

* * *

_Thank gods it's not snowing._ Thought Annabeth as she walked down the street, glancing at the sky.

At twenty-two, she was almost a year out of college, and not happy. Her life wasn't much better then it had been four years ago. In fact, if anything, it was worse.

The February after her first Christmas in Boston, she'd broken up with Percy. Not because he was a bad boyfriend, or the long distance relationship wasn't working--on the contrary, it was working quite well--but because she wanted to get a fresh start. See if maybe, the second time round, her life might be better.

It wasn't.

She was living in a shabby flat in New Jersey; even the low rent on the flat was hard for her to pay. She was working as a realtor--a job she hated with a passion--and spending almost all the money on night classes. Night classes on banking. She hated banking.

And to top it off, Bobby had just died.

He'd been texting while driving, and slammed into a pickup truck. Both cars had fallen off the highway and into a chasm. The chasm was almost forty feet deep. Both drivers had died. And now, Annabeth's father was facing a lawsuit the truck driver's wife was determined on winning.

Annabeth had taken the family tragedy as a chance to escape New Jersey--a city she loathed; the only reason she was living there was because Percy would never think to look for her there--and visit her family in Colorado.

Sinking onto a park bench, Annabeth watched the people walk by. Each was so caught up in their own life, they didn't even notice the blond staring intently at them. Which was probably for the better, she wasn't really in a talking mood.

As she watched the sun sink in the distance and all the people scurrying home for dinner; Annabeth pondered her future. Nothing was going as planned, and she was unhappy. In reality, her life sucked. She was just to stubborn to admit it; even to herself.

Suddenly, behind on of the spreading pine trees, Annabeth saw a flash of golden light. She blinked, confused. The only light like that was the kind a god created when they appeared or disappeared. But really, what god would be here, in Leadville Colorado of all places?

However, a moment latter, a immortal did indeed step out into the dying light. An immortal Annabeth was well acquainted with.

"Lord Hermes," She said, standing and bowing respectfully.

"Annabeth Chase," Hermes replied, nodding his head. "I have some.... melancholy news. You might want to sit down."

Annabeth sat. Glancing uneasily at the god of travelers. "What's wrong?"

"Well," Hermes started. "As you know, two years ago, Thalia, daughter of Zeus, got herself kicked out of the Hunt--"

"She _what_?!" Annabeth asked, leaping to her feet. "When did _that _happen? And why didn't anyone bother to tell me?"

Hermes looked surprised, "I thought you would know. Everyone in camp half-blood was talking about it for sometime."

"Oh," Annabeth lowered her head in shame. "I haven't been. Not in years."

If Hermes was surprised, he had the courtesy not to show it. "She was dismissed because of her 'questionable' background with my son. If you ask me though, Artemis was just sick of competing for Zeus' attention."

Annabeth looked up, "Was that what you came to tell me?"

Hermes shook his head. "No. Unfortunately, it isn't. Two days ago, she died."

Annabeth jumped to her feet. "_What_?! Thalia can't be dead! It's impossible! I haven't seen her in years! She can't be dead, she's invincible!"

Hermes sighed, "No, she wasn't."

"How'd she..... you know......." Annabeth trailed off, bottom lip trembling. She would _not _cry in front of a god.

"Cyclopses. Ten of them."

Annabeth's resolve not to cry was forgotten. She crumpled to the bench seat, sobbing.

Memories of the Cyclops who'd cause Thalia's first 'death' filled her head. It was so unfair. They'd never share another cup of hot chocolate, never laugh together, never argue over the color marble Annabeth was planning to use on Olympus. Never again.

And then something else struck her: if Thalia, the strongest person she knew had fallen, then what about the rest of them?

Like so many other Christmases in her life, Annabeth was shocked with the cold hard truth. This time it was that they'd all die someday. It was just a matter of time.

Hermes cautiously sat down beside her. Annabeth was to busy crying to notice. She did notice however when he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. For a moment, she stiffened. But he didn't do anything else; just hugged her awkwardly.

Sitting there, in the early twilight, in the arms of a god, the news of her oldest friend dead, Annabeth wept.

The only thing on her mind was how much she wished she'd gotten a chance to tell Thalia how much she loved her. How much she looked up to her, how much she wished they'd been able to grow up as sisters. But now it was to late. But still, she could wish.

* * *

Camp was so different, almost crowded. But still the same. Still a place she could call home. Even if she was twenty-three and a half and had no idea what she was going to do with her life.

After she heard of Thalia's death, Annabeth had quit both night school and her realtor job, sold her her furniture, and moved into the Big House.

It wasn't quite the way she'd thought it would be; Percy was dating some daughter of Alectrona--Annabeth thought her name was Roxanna or something--Dionysus was gone--he'd done some good deeds and gotten a number of years taken of his sentence: repeatedly--there was a new daughter of Zeus, and Percy had several half brothers and sisters. But all and all, camp was still the same.

She'd moved back to camp because she realized that almost everyone she cared about was there. And she wasn't going to repeat the mistake she made with Thalia; she was going to be with everyone until they died. Never again would she try to separate herself from the people she loved by spending years away from them.

It hurt however, to watch Percy and his girlfriend share spit. It hurt to see the new cabin six leader--Ray Johnson--march the entire hoard of Athena's children to dinner. That could've been her, leading her half siblings, _or _trading spit with Percy. But she'd made decisions. Really bad decisions.

So she spent Christmas alone. Tucked away in her room, listening to _Silent Night _over and over on her portable radio.

She finally broke when the campers headed away from the dinning pavilion and towards the campfire. It was the combination was not being down there, sharing their joy, and watching Percy and Roxanna kissing that did it.

She broke down in heart wrenching sobs. Because she realized, once and for all, that she'd screwed up her life. Big time. And there might never be a second chance. For all she knew, she'd die tomorrow. And her life would still be a mess.

With all her heart, she wished she'd find a way to fix her life. 'Cause really, she just wants to be happy. And right now, she isn't.

* * *

"Come on Wise Girl, just one more picture?"

Annabeth sighed, "Fine Jackson, but just one more. Gods, you'd think you'd never seen a baby before!"

Percy huffed indignantly. "First of all, you're a Jackson now, so stop abusing the family name," Annabeth rolled her eyes; he was going to lord that over her forever. "And second, I _have _seen babies before, but not one that's half _mine_!"

"I should hope not," Annabeth said teasingly.

"So," Percy said after awhile, "Why'd we end up naming the kid 'Mark'?"

Annabeth shrugged, "Because, I wasn't going to name him Jeffery, and you wouldn't name him Alexander. Therefore, we settled on the name your mom picked out."

"Fair enough."

"That's what I thought."

There was another pause. This time, Percy just stared adoringly at the week old baby in his wife's arms, and Annabeth looked at her husband like he was a dolt.

"Why are you crying?" Percy asked suddenly.

Annabeth jerked her hand up. She was surprised to find her cheek was wet. "Um....." She was interrupted by Mark screaming.

"Is he suppose to do that?" Percy asked, edging away from his child.

"Of course, all babies do," Annabeth answered briskly.

In truth, she was glad Mark had started crying. She didn't want to explain her tears to Percy. Even if he was her husband, he could be so idiotically daft.

She'd been thinking about how she'd managed to pull her life around and make herself happy again. It hadn't been easy, but she'd managed. Not without a good deal of help, and more alcohol then she liked to admit, but still.... She'd done it. She was happy. Or, almost happy.

This Christmas, it was her wish that she'd been able to see her mistakes sooner. She wasted a good deal of her life racing down the wrong path. And now, she deeply regretted it. If only she'd been able to pull herself onto the right path sooner. Then maybe she'd have no regret. Because right now, it was that regret tugging at her stomach that made her from being truly happy. And she wanted to be happy. She'd spent to much of her life miserable.

* * *

"I can't believe we named them 'Luke' and 'Thalia'. Do you know how wrong that is?"

"Get over it Seaweed Brian, you get to name the next two."

"What if we don't have more?"

Annabeth smiled smugly, "Your loss."

Percy sighed and left the kitchen to go stare at the two six month olds who possessed 'offending' names.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and stirred her huge vat of sauce. She'd taken on the responsibility of hosting Christmas this year. That meant that in two hours, Clarisse, Chris, Katie Gardener, the Stoll brothers, Nico and his wife, Andrey, and a bunch of other demigods would be arriving. How they were going to keep the monster attacks to a minimum, Annabeth had no idea.

Then of course, Percy's family was coming: Paul, Sally, Anna, Rick--Anna's husband--and their kids, Molly, Harold, and Cory. Needless to say, Annabeth was stirring one very large tube of sauce.

Looking into the family room, Annabeth smiled to herself.

Percy was holding Luke on his lap, gazing down at him like he was a ticking time bomb. Mark was holding Thalia, protesting loudly when she grabbed the book he'd been reading and threw it onto the floor. Sitting on the floor,--now joined by _Greek Myths_-- Sara and Davis were staring up adoringly at the new set of twins.

The three year olds were mesmerized by the newest additions to the Jackson family. Annabeth had been worried they might be jealous of all the attention the new babies would get, but on the contrary, Sara and Davis showered Thalia and Luke with kisses and talked to them, and on the whole, spent more time just staring at them rather then playing or jumping on the furniture.

Annabeth jumped and spun around, staring intently out the window. Seeing nothing but snow and forest, she sighed and turned back around.

For the last few months, she'd been hallucinating. Thinking she saw a flash of black or blond hair. But then she'd turn to look at it, and there'd be nothing there. Percy'd tried to get her to go to a doctor when he'd caught her spinning around wildly for the fourth time. She turned his suggestion down however. She didn't want to see anybody about it. She wasn't sick, and she knew the flashes weren't real. She was just stressed. And tired, and sad, and depressed, and busy. But she'd get over it. She knew she would.

There was another flash of black.

This time, when Annabeth turned around, she saw a blackbird standing in her yard. Annabeth wasn't practically found of blackbird, but at least it wasn't her overworked brain playing ticks on her.

Staring out the window, Annabeth caught herself doing it again. Wishing for the impossible.

This time, it was that Thalia and Luke could come visit. Even if it was only for a day. There was so much she wanted to ask them, to show them. It was all she wanted for Christmas: that her old family would be able to meet her new one.

* * *

"I can't believe you named her 'Brittany'!"

Percy shrugged, "It Brittany Tonya or Tonya Brittany. And Brittany Jackson sounds better then Tonya Jackson."

Annabeth sighed a dropped into a chair. It had been two weeks, but she was still upset about her husband's name choice for their seventh kid.

"Besides," Percy said, dropping down in the chair next to hers, "No one named Brittany ever did anything bad."

Annabeth knew he was revering to Luke and his namesake, but at the moment she didn't care. Instead, she just broke down in laughter, because really, Percy was an idiot.

Percy however, just stared at her like she was a raving lunatic. She sighed and rolled her eyes. How stupid could you get? He didn't even get she was laughing at him!

"You still haven't told me what's wrong with the name 'Brittany'." Percy reminded her.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and wished her husband was smarter. A _lot _smarter.

* * *

"_Come on kid, let's go."_

_Annabeth grasped Thalia's hand as hard as she could; trying not to cry. She didn't know how Thalia could be so strong, she herself hadn't stopped crying since yesterday._

"_Where are we going?" She asked, sniffling a little._

"_Back to Ms. Castellan's house."_

"_Why? You said--"_

"_I know what I said!" Snapped Thalia, startling the seven year old. She took a deep breath before continuing. "But she deserves to know."_

"_I guess......"_

Annabeth gripped Anna's hand as hard as she could. It was so hard, so hard to lose someone you loved. And staring at Percy's lifeless body was more then she could bare. The fact that they didn't know yet if he would live or not made it even worse.

"_Come on kid, he'll be okay."_

Annabeth dropped Anna's hand and turned around, puzzled. Her hallucinations had stopped years ago. But that had sounded so much like Thalia....

"_Yeah, I was okay, wasn't I?"_

Annabeth shook her head. Luke and Thalia were dead. Had been for years. She needed to get them out of her head.

Turning back to her barley breathing husband, Annabeth let a few tears slip out of her eyes. It was okay to cry. Even the strongest people cried.

"_Thalia? What's wrong?"_

"_Go _away _Annabeth! Nothing's wrong."_

"_You're crying."_

"_I said GO AWAY!"_

Annabeth pressed her hand up against the glass that separated her from her happiness. He couldn't leave her now, he just couldn't.

More tears spilled down her face. She was losing her composure.

She looked around, desperate for someone to hang onto. But they were all busy.

Sally and Paul. Anna and Rick. Even her children were parried up together. Mark and Amy talked in serious tones in the corner, Sara and Davis were hugging and crying with their cousins. Brittany and Jeffery were looking at picture books. They were still to young to understand just how sick their father was.

Thalia was sitting--ramrod straight--in one of the uncomfortable chairs. Her face was whiter then her mother's, and there were rings around her eyes. Luke was sitting next to her.

They weren't talking. As far as Annabeth could see, they were in their own separate worlds. But then again, maybe it was a twin thing.

"_If you'd died....."_

The machine attached to Percy beeped. Annabeth watched, horrified, as doctors and nurses crowded around his bed, sticking things into him and looking panicked.

One of the nurses noticed the curtain wasn't closed. She walked over, and pulled it down over the window. Annabeth was left staring at a green cloth.

"Oh gods, help him." She whispered. He couldn't die. If he did.....

The horrible beeping didn't let up. Annabeth had to cover her ears, the noise reminded her that Percy could be dead.

"Please let him be okay," She begged.

"_He'll be okay."_

"_She's tough."_

"You're both dead!" She whispered into the wall. Furious at herself for letting voices of the past back into her head.

She closed her eyes, trying to stop the waterfall of tears.

"I wish he'd pull through," She muttered, giving into her instinct to wish for the near impossible. "If he doesn't..... I don't want to leave our children alone."

* * *

"_It's okay to cry." Luke was patting her back, comforting her._

"_.....I need time." Her father was arguing with a man who wanted to take her away._

"_It's her fault!" Luke was defending her._

"_To many rules." Why Thalia wouldn't like camp._

"_You're just not _her_." Why Luke wouldn't tell her everything._

_Scandals even. What Athena thought of everything Annabeth/Percy related._

"_........You're not a lovesick puppy." What Thalia was pretending not to be._

"_.......I'm not to cheap......." What explained everything._

"_I'm coming." What she did all the time._

_Luke is dead. What scarred her heart._

"_I'm lonely...." What she felt when Percy was gone._

"_Two days ago, she died." What she regretted forever._

_Percy was dating. What broke her heart a second time._

"_.........You're a Jackson now...." What made her smile._

_There was another flash of black. What drove her crazy._

_Seventh kid. What shocked her._

_Thalia and Luke were dead. What made her wish for death._

Memories filled her head to the brim. She was already crying and upset; so they couldn't hurt her. Maybe that was why she was thinking of them now.

Standing there, on a cliff above the ocean. She plucked the petals of a dark red rose off one by one. One by one, she threw then into the ocean. And then she tossed the flowerless stem.

She watched first the breeze, then the water, drag the plant away from her. Sucking up what she hoped was her last connection with a dead man.

There was salt spray in her hair, blood on her hands, tears on her face, memories in her head, and a black mourning dress on the rest of her.

Her hand reached instinctively into her pocket, were she kept the picture of herself, Luke, and Thalia on the run that her stepmom had discovered years before. When she was angry, sad, or happy, she would look at it. She didn't know why. All she knew was it was the last picture she had of all of them together.

In a fit of rage--because her sufferings would have been nonexistent if they were both still alive--she yanked the picture out of her pocket and tore it to shreds.

The wind picked up, and the scattered pits of paper leapt into the air. In one gust, her last photo of happiness between them had gone over the cliff. And she wasn't the least bit sorry.

That picture hadn't done anything wrong, it hadn't deserved to be torn to shreds; but then again, her father hadn't done anything wrong. And he certainly didn't deserve to die. But still, he was dead. Gone. Just like the petals and paper now mixing in the waves.

In an outburst of fury and heartache, she wished she wasn't a demigod. That she'd never heard of the flip'n Greek gods and their freak'n heros. She wanted no part of them anymore.

* * *

"Hey guys! We're back!"

There was the sound of children running, and a moment latter, Thalia and Luke burst out of their bedroom and set upon their father with bursts of yells and merriment.

"Hey baby, how's it going?" Percy asked, dropping his ice skates on the floor and walking over to were Annabeth was standing and swooped in, kissing her warm lips with his own cold ones.

"How was skating?"

Percy shrugged, "Fine, the ice was frozen over pretty well, and nobody died. Mission successful if I do say so myself.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, "You're such a seaweed brian."

Percy smiled sheepishly. "Isn't that why you married me?"

Before she could answer, there was a crash from Thalia and Luke's bedroom. Annabeth sighed and shook her head. "Dinner'll be ready in just a sec. Go wake up Brit and Jeff will you? And make sure Thalia hasn't killed Luke yet."

Percy winked, "Of course dear, whatever you say."

Annabeth rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove, sending him on his way. She really did need to set the table if they were going to eat. Gods know her kids weren't going to do it for her.

As the sun went down, Annabeth caught herself staring blankly out the window. Now was the time she always cried and wished for something outlandish. It was a tradition.

But now, staring out the window, she realized something: she had everything she wanted. There was no reason to cry, and nothing to wish for.

For the first time in her life, she could truthfully say that she was unconditionally happy.


End file.
